With Whom to Dance
by EE's Skysong
Summary: He is Valentine, but he's not quite her Valentine he's not quite anyone's Valentine. And Helena doesn't really care as long as he'll dance with her. Some VxH


Disclaimer: "I had a dream and you were in it The blue of your eyes was infinite You seemed to be In love with me Which isn't very realistic"

(An: I wrote the beginning of this right after my first viewing of _MirrorMask_, and the rest of it came in fits and spurts, so the tone may seesaw a bit. Just to warn you.)

"I'm a very important man, you know," the man- Valentine, of course his name was Valentine- commented.

Helena managed not to drop the balls they were passing back and forth (something she hadn't done since she was six, for heaven's sake!), but she couldn't keep from smiling. "Oh, of course," and once the balls were out of her hands, she shook her head to clear it of a memory of a boy-man who was _not_ real, no matter how much _this_ boy-man reminded her of him.

"No, really," Valentine insisted, and Helena giggled- he said it with the exact sort of dignified but flustered indignant tone he of the many masks had always used. Somehow, in a pause between balls, he put a hand on his hip. Then he had to hurry to catch up before one of them fell. "I've got an entire day named after me."

Helena raised her eyebrows, but she was smiling too- it was hard not to smile around him. He had such an earnest manner: cheerful and desperate to please, with a bit of frustration underneath. "I think the holiday's a little older than you."

"A little," Valentine conceded. "But I _am_ important. Do you know where I live?"

Helena shook her head again even as she asked, "A tower?" _This isn't him. He probably lives in a cheap apartment… with a cheaper girlfriend…_

Now he put both hands on his hips, and the balls dropped. Helena didn't even notice until no balls came back her direction. Then she blinked and actually looked at him. "It's no fun, you know," said Valentine, and to her surprise he sounded honestly annoyed.

Helena started to pick up the balls, squatting so she could keep her eyes on his face. "What?"

"When you've only just met someone, but they already seem to know everything about you."

Helena dropped the balls, but she didn't notice; she was too busy staring in utter confusion at him. And then her mother came out of the ticket box, calling for the crazy man who'd asked for a job, and Helena was almost glad she was spared having to reply to that hurt glare of his.

O-o-O-o-O

He came wandering back about ten minutes later; she was juggling by herself again, and the show was going to start soon, but she tossed him a ball, and they were back into the rhythm of before. She wasn't sure if this was an apology, since she wasn't sure if they had really fought. She considered asking him, but that would be just weird (and he would undoubtedly insist it was only a "minor disagreement"). "So did you pass?"

"I think so," said Valentine, shrugging. He really was a good juggler, to be able to gesture and not miss a beat. He'd probably been doing it as long as she had. "At least, your mother mumbled something about getting someone to teach me how to ride a unicycle…"

Helena snorted. "Well, we do have a unicycle… and an empty trailer."

"Hmm. That's true. I'll have to do something about my tower if I'm to be on the road." They started walking, slowly at first. The balls kept the same pace, though.

"Doesn't it fly?" Helena asked idly.

He laughed. "I wish. That'd be handy." He sighed. "I suppose I'll have to rent it out or something. Find an artist and rob him of his money so he'll start to starve."

"We all must suffer for our art," said Helena solemnly, although she was restraining a laugh. She couldn't seem to frown at him or express the least bit of displeasure, which should have been odd but really… wasn't. She already knew him after all… sort of. Helena shook her head, trying to remind herself that no matter how much this person reminded her of Valentine, it wasn't him. Valentine wasn't real. She suddenly tossed all of the balls in her hands at him, saluting him before heading over to her father to get ready for their act.

O-o-O-o-O

After the show, Helena was in her room drawing when she heard a rap on the door. She looked up; Valentine was peering through the window at her- or over her. She glanced behind herself and realized he was looking at the drawings on her wall. She answered the door, eyebrows raised.

Valentine had his hands behind his back, and he was looking at her curiously. "I was going to tell you something, but now I think I've come to ask you for something," he said, nodding in firm agreement with himself. "That." He pointed at her unorthodox wallpaper. When Helena cocked her head, he shook his. "I don't want those specific drawings, but I'd like _some_- I've not much in the way of personal effects, and my new trailer looks so… bland. In retrospect, so does my tower, but, you know…" He shrugged. "It's a tower."

Helena nodded. "It's interesting by itself."

A broad grin spread across his face, and he nodded. "Exactly!" He took a step inside and, when she didn't stop him, another. "You really are talented," he commented, examining a drawing of a sphinx. He was still holding the whatever-it-was behind his back.

"So what did you come here to tell me?" Helena asked, after a moment of silence.

He spread his hands; there was a white mask in one of them. She half-expected it to have a purple stripe down the middle, but he put it on, and no, it was just covered in glitter. "Ta-da," he said, rather expectantly, when she said nothing.

She got off her bed and snatched it off his face, an impish grin on her own.

"Hey! I earned that!" He grabbed at it, and Helena simply put it on herself. He hesitated then, even though he hadn't to touch her before.

Helena smirked. "It suits me better. It's white and girly."

He paused, apparently just noticing she was in her pajamas. He looked at her feet disapprovingly. "Bunny slippers. How barbaric."

Helena did a double take, but he missed her surprise, still looking at her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, and he looked up expectantly, but then she closed it and shook her head. After a moment, she finally said, "You were wrong before."

"I assure you, my tower has never flown."

Helena shook her head, a little bit too confused to laugh. "Not about that. I meant about me knowing everything about you." She paused, and then she sighed. "We just met."

O-o-O-o-O

_Valentine was looking at her skeptically- because he never looked at her any other way- and frowning. "You aren't the same, and neither am I."_

_Helena rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. "Who cares? There's dancing!"_

O-o-O-o-O

The next morning Helena was rather surprised to find Valentine asleep in front of her trailer. She saw him, and then she almost stepped on him anyway because it was just too strange to be anything but a continuation of her dream (which she couldn't remember, much to her annoyance). Then she realized he was really there and resisted the urge to scream. Instead, she carefully knelt so she wouldn't fall on him and poked him in the stomach.

He woke immediately with a yell of surprise, and Helena shook her head- she should have expected this, _him_ being the one surprised when he was outside _her_ trailer. Except that she was starting to realize that he would never do what she expected. _Which, really, I should have expected… damn, this is getting confusing._

She shook her head to clear it and looked back at him. "What on earth are you doing sleeping in front of my trailer?"

He sat up, looked around, and shrugged.

"You make a terrible welcome mat," Helena replied, crossing her arms. "Too squishy."

He flapped a hand at her. "I didn't mean to fall asleep here, if it's any compensation." Helena raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged again. "I sleepwalk when I sleep in strange beds." He stood up now and ran a hand through his hair, looking at her feet. "And I've been having very vivid dreams lately- at least, I think so."

Helena reached over and brushed the grass out of his hair; his eyes snapped to hers, and she just shrugged. "Can't remember them?" He looked at her for what felt like a very long moment before slowly shaking his head.

There was a curious whistle from behind Valentine, and both of them looked over. Pingo was standing there, his head cocked. "I'm awake," said Helena, stepping out of her trailer beside Valentine. Pingo whistled again. "It's the new guy." Pingo nodded and stuck out his hand to Valentine. "Pingo, Valentine. Valentine, Pingo. He likes to stay in character."

Valentine nodded; his smile was rather confused but friendly nonetheless. Pingo tipped an imaginary hat before strolling off. Valentine looked at Helena. "So, um… would you like to see my tower?"

O-o-O-o-O

It was really just a rather skinny flat. "It's a tower if you squint," he insisted when she pointed this out. She laughed; she couldn't deny that. "You're more fun than most of the people I bring here," he commented as they ascended the stairs to his room.

"I thought you said I was no fun," said Helena, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

He shrugged. "I've changed my mind," and for once she couldn't read his expression. "You're far more interesting than I originally took you to be. Which usually isn't true." He looked at her, smiling. "I'm pleased."

She smiled back herself, wondering if he would ever settle into predictability and if she would like if he did. He hastily turned to the door to his flat, fishing in his pockets for the key. His room _was_ drab- there were a few posters on the wall, a stove and fridge in the corner, and a bed in the center, all of which Valentine ignored in favor of picking up the clothing scattered about. Helena started to help. "Shouldn't you be at a university or something?"

Valentine shrugged, fishing around under the bed for a suitcase. "I did go there, for a while- it wasn't for me." He started to shove things haphazardly in the suitcase; he'd never be able to shut it. He made a disgusted noise as he continued: "High school was a chore, but uni was worse- always, always 'Sit up straight, Val, pay attention, Val, eat your greens, Val!" He paused and looked at her. "I don't even like it when people call me Val."

Helena laughed. "I can understand that. I hate it when people call me Hel."

Valentine glanced around, seemed satisfied that most of the clothes had been collected, and attempted to shut the suitcase. Just as Helena had predicted, it was a reluctant closer. He sighed in disgust and sat on it. "Mind flipping the latch?" Helena obliged, and he peered down into her face: "I'd hate it if people went around calling me after a Norse goddess all day, too."

Helena blinked at him. No one ever got that. Then she flipped the other latch of the suitcase and, lacking any better way to change the subject, asked, "Um, so what was your major?"

Valentine hopped off the suitcase and muttered something into his hand.

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

"Ahm… liberal arts," he admitted finally. "It's an absolutely useless degree, but then, my mother used to say I was an absolutely useless person, so there you go…" He glanced around the room and seemed satisfied.

"Is that really all you're taking?" Helena asked when he started for the door.

"Ah, the rest of it's just stuff. You can replace stuff. Now, a good juggler- _that's_ hard to find." He kicked open the door (his hands were full of suitcase, which looked like it might explode at any second) and swept her a bow, gesturing for her to leave first.

O-o-O-o-O

"So are you going off to uni then?" said Valentine. He had gotten better at unicycling (meaning he fell off after ten minutes instead of five).

"Not yet," said Helena off-handedly. She was trying to pick up the trick of contact juggling- which was not easy, despite how David Bowie made it seem. "I'm only fifteen."

"_Fif-_ agh!" Valentine stopped pedaling and thus lost his balance, landing hard on the grass in a truly pathetic heap.

"I think it'll be a while before you're ready for an act," Helena said, stifling a giggle. The crystal ball in her hand slipped; Valentine threw out a hand and caught it before it hit the ground.

"And _I _thought the point of contact juggling was for the balls to stay in contact with you."

Helena sighed, shaking her head. "I didn't say I was ready either."

Valentine sat up, rubbing a bruise on his knee. "I thought you were older," he muttered, shaking his head. "Fifteen!"

"Fifteen's a nice age. Why are you so picky about it?"

"Because I feel all... ooh." He shuddered, shaking his head. "Pedophilish."

"What, just talking to me? I wasn't aware that was a scandalous act." She helped him to his feet.

"Ah... yes, let's go with that." Helena raised her eyebrows, and Valentine spread his hands, shrugging. He gave her the ball. "Get right back on the horse, eh?"

O-o-O-o-O

"There's still the matter of my commission, you know," Valentine commented. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the screen Helena was changing behind. He didn't have a full costume yet; without an official act, he was stuck selling popcorn, tickets, and generally doing whatever no one else wanted to do in a suit and his mask.

_At least he's not insisting he's my manager,_ Helena thought. She paused, making a face. She'd thought she had stopped confusing him and the dream she'd had. "It's only a commission if you pay me to wallpaper your room."

"I can, if you want me to." He paused. "Well, at least, I will be able to... eventually."

"No, that's all right," Helena laughed. "I wouldn't want to strip you of your popcorn tips." She peered over the top of the screen so she could stick out her tongue at him. She pulled on her top and stepped out in her pajamas. "Ta-da!"

"You look gorgeous. Radiant. Bunny-slippered."

She took his arm, shaking her head. "What is it with you and my footwear?"

"I just don't understand why people think it's cute or amusing to walk around wearing little rabbity effigies. What did they ever do to you?" Valentine sighed, allowing Helena to lead him to her trailer. As she set about getting ready for bed, he studied the drawings again. He cocked his head, tracing a fleet of flying fish. "Is there a story here?" Helena looked at him sharply (defensiveness about her drawings was a hard habit to break), but he just shrugged, now looking at a picture of the Princess of Shadows. "I just see her a lot," he said, pointing at the picture. He paused, and then his finger slowly drifted to one of Valentine. "And him." He looked over his shoulder at her, making a face. "It's not a sordid romance, is it?"

Helena dropped her toothbrush in surprise. "_No_!" She sighed, shaking her head. "They don't get along. _She's_ horrid, and he's… a jerk."

"Ah-hah! So there is a narrative here," he said, bending down so he could peer into her face. "Can I inquire as to its nature?"

"Why are you so curious?" Helena replied, even as she thought, _He's close enough to kiss me._ She had been this close to boys before, but she had never considered anything like that before. She remembered watching the Princess kiss the slimy-looking boy- hadn't she felt that way whenever she thought of kissing before? So what had happened to that? When had she got the silly idea that it might not be… abhorrent… to kiss Valentine?

Then he waved his hand in front of her face. "Ground control to Major Tom...?"

Helena shook her head to clear it of the ridiculous line of thought. She barely knew him- even if he'd been the same boy from her dream, she'd only known him a few days. "Sorry. I was trying to think of a way to sum this," she gestured at her walls, "all up."

Valentine shook his head. "You were woolgathering, but we can call it that if it makes you feel better." He sat cross-legged on her bed and patted the space beside him.

Helena sat, glad that the strange feelings of a few moments ago had disappeared. They were unsettling and, frankly, ridiculous. She sighed, leaning against the wall. "All right. Once upon a time, there was a City of Light and a City of Shadow..."

The telling didn't take near as long as the living, mostly because she avoided using names and kept it as simple as she could. When she finished, Valentine looked rather impressed. "And was this all just random, or...?"

"I got it from a dream. Now really, why are you so interested?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm going to be covering my walls in the stuff... besides, I told you. I like to write myself."

Helena was about to protest that he'd never said any such thing (and to berate him for withholding such interesting information) when she realized he must have said so while she was "woolgathering." She blushed again; thankfully, he didn't seem to notice. "Is that what you went to uni for?"

"My major," Valentine agreed. "But I'm not very good at writing cohesively. Or, at least, not when people tell me to..." He trailed off, looking at a drawing of mirror-Valentine's beloved tower.

Helena studied him, but she couldn't puzzle out his expression. There was curiousity in it, of course, and possibly recognition... longing, maybe? He suddenly seemed to realize how long he'd been staring at it without speaking and snapped back to her. "Sorry… that just, um…" He shrugged. "It's a cool drawing."

Someone rapped on the door. "Helena?" It was her father.

"It's not locked," Helena called, standing up. If her father saw her here, with Valentine, like that-

He opened the door just enough to peer inside, and a slow frown spread over his face. He wasn't a man often given to frowning; it didn't look natural. "It's late, Helena." He looked pointedly at Valentine. "And we have an early show in the morning." His tone was neutral, but judging by Valentine's flush, he had also caught her father's underlying opinion about men in her room at ten at night.

"Wow, it is late," said Valentine, with forced surprise. He stood up, keeping a respectful distance from Helena. He was still quite red. Clearing his throat, he added, "We'll, um, talk more about this tomorrow, okay?"

Her father, apparently satisfied, smiled and shut the door.

Valentine paused before following him, toying with something in his pocket. "Goodnight, Helena," he said quietly. He glanced at her walls and shook his head. And then he said something very strange- although that was typical. "I'm not a good man, you know."

Helena hugged her knees. "But you're an important one."

He waved that away impatiently, uninterested. "It doesn't matter. I'm not a good person, and you know it, too. You saw me, before, and you knew it, then. I don't know why you don't know it now."

"Why do you always have to insist you're right?"

A trace of haughtiness returned to his face, and Helena was back on firm ground. She knew this tone of voice and expression; he was completely convinced of his own superiority again, if only for a moment. "Because I always am." His face darkened again, and, with his hand resting on the door, he added, "I've changed somehow, but that hasn't."

Before Helena could say a word in response, he had disappeared out the door, and she was left, pressing her face into her pillow and wishing for sleep.

O-o-O-o-O

The sky was beautiful. It had been a kind of yellowish smudge before, slowly drifting into darkness as the world destroyed itself. But now it was a lovely bluish-black, complete with a moon and little twinkly things. The palace was full of light and laughter, and- to Helena's mind, most importantly- people dancing.

_But instead of joining them, she was just sitting on the steps. If her dream from last night had been this dull, no wonder she hadn't bothered remembering it._

_The queen had pointed out that the party was all for her, but Helena hadn't really heard her- her mother's face had looked as out of place beneath that white hair as she felt in her dress and pale yellow mask. _

_"I don't think you look right in it either, for the record," Valentine commented with a little shrug. _

_"But you won't dance with me," said Helena quietly. _That_ was why she hadn't remembered last night's dream- it wasn't dull, it was disappointing. She very much wanted to dance with Valentine, even though she wasn't sure which one she wished he was._

_"I never said that," he replied, sounding faintly offended. "I'd like to know who did."_

_Helena rearranged her skirts without looking at him. "It's written all over your face." She knew that his pause before replying was him checking his face for scribbles, and she smiled a little, in spite of herself._

_"Well, no one ever said I _could_ dance, did you ever think of that?"_

_"You're Valentine, and you're saying you can't do something?" she asked, raising her eyebrows._

_"I never said that either!" He sounded quite flustered, which was satisfying; not only did it mean she was getting under his skin, but it made her surer that this was her world's Valentine- if there had ever been any difference between the pair._

_Valentine huffed, a rustle of cloth suggesting he'd crossed his arms. "Valentines can do anything."_

_"Oh, good. I'd started to wonder if you were sick."_

_"You're not making this any easier, you know."_

_"Making _what_ easier?" Helena demanded, and she finally looked up at him._

_Valentine _did_ have his arms crossed, but when he met her eyes (she thought he did, at least), his hands dropped to his sides and clenched in his robe. After a moment, he said, "I'm not a good person, and I'm much older than you... but I do love to dance." He held out his hand, almost shyly._

_Helena took it, shy enough for the both of them. As one, they glanced into the palace and shook their heads. Valentine led her down the rest of the steps to the courtyard. There was moonlight, and the music of the mouse band drifted along the wind to their ears, and that was all they needed._

_"I dreamed of you, you know," said Valentine. Their faces were still several inches apart, but with his hands on her waist he felt very close indeed. "Two nights in a row before this one."_

_"No, I dreamed of _you_," said Helena, cocking her head and smiling beneath her mask. This was like the conversation with her mother in the dream lands, only she knew she was right this time. "Why else would it have been about saving _my_ mother?"_

_"You think I don't have problems?" he murmured, but, for once, he didn't keep arguing; the music was too fast to allow for much conversation. After a few minutes, he added, "I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. We're here now, and you finally have a mask, like a proper person."_

_Helena, just to prove him wrong, lifted her mask a little to stick her tongue out at him._

_"You're disgusting," Valentine said, but, to her amazement, with affection._

Helena felt a smile spread across her face, and Valentine returned it, and the two of them danced. If anything else needed to be said (and Helena didn't really think so), it could wait until morning.

(That is probably a crap ending, but hell, this has been sitting on my computer since May. It's something. Review, peeps!)


End file.
